


Blame It (On the High Grade)

by kikaikitai



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Non-Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Old Fic Repost, Tactile, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 23:44:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6775036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikaikitai/pseuds/kikaikitai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knock Out knows Starscream is hoarding some fine high grade. He also knows they've been resisting each other for far too long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame It (On the High Grade)

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic repost.

Knock Out gave a sigh, dragging a digit over the datapad as he walked the corridors. How he hated paperwork. Fixing up Vehicons all cycle long was bad enough, but the logging that followed... ugh. He'd tried getting Breakdown to do it for him before, but the big mech had done it _backwards_ and lost Knock Out a full night of recharge trying to fix it.

He'd be deep in stasis right now too if it weren't for the log. There was only one step left, and he needed to get it done otherwise it would nag at his processor all night.

As he approached a dark door, he activated his commlink. "Comman—er, _Lord_ Starscream," he vocalized. "I need a signature. I'm just outside."

He got a snarl in response and rolled optics to the ceiling as he waited. Less than a micro-klik and a few beeps later, the door swooshed open. Starscream loomed in the doorway with a fixed glare and one servo behind his back.

"You weren't in stasis, were you?" Knock Out asked, like he cared, and held the datapad out lazily. As his commander reached out to sign with a long claw, the medic felt a tickle to his sensors. Oh? He booted them strong. Starscream's energy field was coiled tight, but Knock Out was a perceptive mech. The jet's field was being held straight, but the outer field had a buzz to it, a sort of muddled quality that he would recognize anywhere.

He cut his gaze down to find that the servo behind the jet's back was badly hiding a cube. Hm. He looked back up and noted the haze to the Seeker's normally piercing crimson optics. Yep. Someone had been enjoying some high grade tonight. And to his knowledge, these quarters belonged to Megatron when he was still up and running. He must have a fine stash of high grade. Kaonite even! What Knock Out would give for a taste.

And not only of the drink, but the tall mech before him as well. The Seeker _had_ been increasingly agitated lately. Why, it wasn't healthy to stomp around all day long and then fill up on high grade at night with no outlet. Knock Out had his duties as a medic, right? Surely it was his job to take care of the ship's commander. Provide an outlet, if you will.

With a smirk and risen ridges, he tucked the datapad under an arm. "Starscream," he began, pausing for effect. "As your physician, I must say I'm concerned."

Starscream didn't budge from the door. "Oh? And why is that?" he vocalized. The slight sluggishness to his vocalization tickled the grounder's interest even more.

Knock Out kept his smirk strong. "High grade all alone late at night? All of this build up isn't good for a mech! Even for an aerial such as yourself."

An optical ridge quirked on the Seeker's face. Bullshit sensors tingling. He took the bait anyway. "And what does the good doctor suggest?"

"A release, of course," Knock Out drawled with a glint in his optic.

Husky laughter rose from Starscream's vocalizer. "What makes you think I would take a _grounder_ to the berth?"

Knock Out took a step forward, letting his field dance on the edge of the jet's. "I'm no ordinary grounder," he challenged in a deliberate purr. He hadn't been blind to the way Starscream's wings twitched every time he vocalized. Oh, the Seeker liked hearing his voice, and with high grade running through his system, he could not hide the arousal spiking him with every vocalization.

And as predicted, the taller mech's wings swept up high, charged and eager. Though he remained unmoving. Still needed more convincing.

"Look, Starscream," Knock Out wheedled, straightening handsomely. "I don't _do_ flyers. But I'd have to be glitched or blind to deny that you've got a tantalizing build."

The Seeker preened visibly at the compliment for a moment, then squinted. "Your point?" he almost demanded.

"My point," the medic paused and with a smile, dragged the back of a talon up the jet's cockpit. A delicious lick of energy fizzled up the aerial's frame, and his wings rattled loudly in arousal. "is that you want it too."

Starscream kept his mouthplate in a thin line, glowering down at the grounder for long, measured seconds. Then without another word, he stepped back into the room, swinging the arm out from behind his back and taking a healthy sip of high grade. He turned and walked to the back of the chambers in slow, swaying steps.

Knock Out entered the room with an equally sensual stride, radiating victory. "After all, it'd be a crime not to share such fine high grade," he said, following after his catch.

He got no response and rolled optics, but still kept that shiny smile on his plate. Starscream stopped by the berth, and before he could tilt the cube at his mouthplate again, a slender black servo closed around his wrist.

"Sharing is caring," the grounder crooned, bringing the jet's hand down and guiding the cube to his intake. He tilted it and took the remaining liquid into his mouth. It was thick, and sparked his sensornet with delicious, strong, unprocessed crystals. Definitely a product of Kaon, aged perfectly too. It had been far too long since Knock Out tasted high grade. This definitely brought back memories.

He swallowed with a hum, and took the cube to throw it over his shoulder. It clattered somewhere behind and Starscream narrowed his optics.

Knock Out wasted no time in settling his eager hands on that finely tapered waist. "Ready, _Herr Commandant?"_

Starscream's optics flared before his mouth curved into a dangerous smile. One servo settled on the shorter Decepticon's chest between the headlights. "Ready," he answered, and without hesitation, pushed Knock Out so that he stumbled and fell back onto the berth.

Oh. So that's how this was going to be. His engine revved from surprise and from the sheer urgency in the action. Not to mention the _alpha_. Slag. He thought he would be on top. There was no denying how hot this was, though.

The aerial's energy field wasn't so modest now, a burning, buzzing blanket of desire and heat engulfing them both as the mech lowered onto the berth. Knock Out hooked fingers into his commander's ventral plates and pulled his pelvis against his own.

"Mm," Starscream hummed in approval, grinding down.

Even if the slagger insisted on being on top, Knock Out wasn't going to let that stop him from taking as much control as he could. He reached up to grab one of those expressive wings and revved his engine hard, sending a decent vibration to assault the delicate sensors underneath plating. Starscream arched deeply, electricity jumping from his frame as he moaned.

The medic chuckled his win, and continued to relentlessly manipulate the wing in his servo. The jet gave a needy, hot whine, grinding back down. Both mechs radiated their arousal strongly, energy fields entwining and fighting for dominance.

Seems they had both been desirous of each other for a long time. Is this what they'd been denying themselves of? Because _frag_.

It seemed that Starscream agreed, because his abdominal plating shifted to reveal his interface panel and a port just begging for charge. Knock Out nearly groaned at the sight and easily opened his panel up as well.

Starscream connected first and Knock Out just about drowned in the mech's arousal. Primus, they hadn't even completed the loop and he was already reeling. With a static chuckle, the Seeker rocked his hips. "Plug in," he demanded, delighted by the sight of Knock Out already losing himself.

The red Decepticon scrambled for his cable and finally locked the piece in. This time they were both overwhelmed by the feedback and Starscream finally shut up. It was good to know there existed one thing that could silence the garrulous commander. Next time he was bitching the medic's audials off, he knew just what to do.

Knock Out knew better than to mock his quiet, especially in the middle of fragging, so he simply smirked and sent pleasure through their link. Starscream was fast, sending it back twofold while continuing his grind, wings at a sharp angle above him.

The grinding was delicious, Knock Out couldn't deny that. But he preferred a more hands-on approach during interfacing. Slender talons dug into the jet's midsection, tugging and playing with the cabling there. Starscream's optics flared and he pressed Knock Out into the berth with a growl of pleasure.

With their helms so close, the medic had a perfect view of that enticing neck. He couldn't resist going for it with hungry denta and glossa. The shudder that caused shook them both, the strong vibration of their energy fields thrumming into the berth.

Being straddled this way was hot beyond all reason and Knock Out writhed under his commander, so close to overload he could taste it. His fans whined into overdrive as he attacked that neck again, moaning loudly.

And Starscream loved it, loved feeling denta leaving marks on his cabling, loved the prick of pain that added to the bliss washing up and down his frame. He responded with an enthusiastic snarl and slammed down into his medic with all the force he could muster.

Knock Out's entire frame jerked from the skitter of energy that caused, heat assaulting his circuits and it was just enough to send him over the edge—slag it, there was no way he was about to lose like this. His hands slammed up to grab hold of both gray wings and his engine roared, the force of his system overload storming up to his claws and flooding those sensors with pure, white-hot pleasure.

Starscream went down with him, both mechs caught in a dizzying feedback loop as their overloads crashed into each other again and again in lightning-strikes of energy. His claws peeled red paint from Knock Out in a painful scratch and finally the jet vocalized his pleasure in a long, shrill growl.

The explosion of energy left them shaking, circuits and fuses tingling and gripping each other as they ventilated hard and exhausted. Finally Knock Out released those wings and Starscream winced at the indentations left in the plating, but didn't complain otherwise as he rolled off of his partner onto his back.

Neither said anything for a moment, both seemingly processor-fuzzed and trying to let their fans work.

"This changes nothing," Starscream finally vocalized.

Knock Out snorted and inspected the scratches to his frame with a lopsided half-frown. "Nothing at all," he agreed.

After another few minutes of ventilating silence, Starscream shifted onto his side for a nap. "Stay online," he ordered casually. "I may want you again in an hour."

Resilient for an older model. He was going to be sore in the morning.

And in said morning, he hadn't even needed to share the news with Breakdown. One look at the two mechs with scrapes and scratches and equally satisfied glows to their optics and he knew.

About damn time.


End file.
